


live wire

by unveils



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, background kory/donna and dick/kory if that bothers you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unveils/pseuds/unveils
Summary: It’s not that this is the first time Dick has had anything hard to drink, but there’s a difference between a handful of sips of stale tasting beer between friends and this, a moment charged by the way Roy is looking at him, soft and wry and hungry whenever he thinks Dick isn’t watching.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Roy Harper
Comments: 7
Kudos: 88





	live wire

It’s not that this is the first time Dick has had anything hard to drink, but there’s a difference between a handful of sips of stale tasting beer between friends and this, a moment charged by the way Roy is looking at him, soft and wry and hungry whenever he thinks Dick isn’t watching. 

It was a victory celebration turned into a friday night party, something that started with dancing, Wham!, and drinks and ended with Wally falling asleep to the Thing, Garth in the pool, and Kory in Donna’s lap, kissing her so sweetly that Dick felt awkward watching. She’d left him with a kiss and a smile, both open enough to steal away any of the remaining discomfort-- he trusted her, and he trusted what they had between them, and wasn’t that enough?

The hype of everyone around them has wound down now, but Dick feels too wired, too awake-- it’s barely even after midnight. Roy’s next to him on the couch, and they’re both pretending to watch whatever is playing on TV-- maybe American Werewolf in London-- while Wally’s snores drift around them from the room over. 

His mouth is dry when he swallows, and he can feel Roy’s eyes on him, heavy, when his lips part. 

“What? You’re staring.” Dick snaps, trying to go for irritated. Roy immediately laughs like he’s releasing tension from his shoulders, a soft chuckle of a thing that makes Dick feel too hot. 

“S’nothing, you’re just cute when you’re like this, wound up. Don’t you ever relax?” 

Dick scowls, rolling his eyes. “I’m not--” 

“You are.” Roy finishes for him. There’s a moment where their eyes meet in the neon glow of the television, Dick’s lips parting again, watching the way Roy follows the movement with his eyes, watching him swallow hard. Roy moves, slow, dipping into Dick’s space, and Dick watches that, too, right up until he pulls the half-empty bottle of raspberry Svedka from between Dick’s legs. 

Dick hates the way his chest is fluttering, hates the inaction, hates the way he  _ does _ tense as Roy audibly swallows down to mouthfuls straight from the bottle. 

When Roy opens his mouth again, Dick kisses him. Roy’s clearly not expecting it, which makes something in Dick scream the same way Roy always sits in Dick’s mind, somewhat irritably, blooming with potential. He tastes bitter, like the vodka and raspberry and whatever crazy fucking Atlantean weed Garth had brought, and Dick wants to swallow him whole, to devour him completey. If Roy can sense his desperation, he doesn’t seem to mind, groaning like a gust into Dick’s open mouth, cold fingers scaling Dick’s forearms, gripping tight like he’s afraid of whatever skin he’ll lose if he doesn’t.

“Dick,” Roy starts, when Dick pulls away, but Dick’s not done, not by a mile, and he cups Roy’s jaw in his palm, guiding him close enough to swallow down his lower lip. Roy groans again, shifting on the couch to pull more of Dick into his space, and Dick abides, moving as easily with Roy as he always does in the field. Dick knows bodies, he knows Roy’s body, and the way his legs fall open when Dick gets a hand on his hip is natural, easy. 

“Are we gonna talk about this?” Roy asks, and Dick thinks so blindingly that he wants to see him naked. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He fires back, and Roy’s bottom lip is still wet with Dick’s spit when he sucks it back into his mouth, teeth heavy-- Dick’s cock stirs in his jeans and he feels overexcited, too hot, back to being a kid about to come in his pants just from the feeling of Kory’s hard body moving against his own for the first time.

Roy replies by drawing Dick all the way onto his lap, and it’s Dick’s turn to laugh, low and hot between the two of him. He reaches up to knock the Speedy hat off Roy’s head, surprised it survived the festivities. Dick presses a kiss, first, to the side of Roy’s jaw and then down his neck, pulling at his Motley Crue tanktop to nose at his freckled collarbone. Dick sucks there, hard, once, just to be rude, and Roy comes alive with it like a live wire, feeling down Dick’s back, careful, like he’s a girl. 

“Man,” Roy edges, just a note away from a whine. “I gotta-- can I touch you?” 

Only his hand is falling to Dick’s jeans before he can even answer, and Dick laughs again, nodding his head, yes, yeah,  _ touch me _ . Roy whines a little in his throat at the sight of him, something guttural, something frustrated, and Dick wants to push him like a rush of adrenaline, a rush of gas, the first time he pushed the pedal on his cycle as far as it could go. Roy licks his palm, dirty, and shoves it into Dick’s boxers, cupping him careful, and then rough, and then careful, tonguing into his mouth like an apology. Dick shudders, rolling his shoulders, angling his gaze between their bodies to watch Roy touch him. 

Roy’s eyes shift from his hand to Dick’s face, watching Dick watch him, and Dick groans. “Harder,” he instructs. “Squeeze just underneath the head, like-- yeah.” 

“You touch yourself like this?” Roy’s voice is rough but careful, like he’s surprising himself by saying it, too. “Huh, buddy? You do this in the tower, a room down from mine?” 

And Dick  _ does,  _ quiet and too rough with himself when Kory is away, or when the mission was too much, when he’s too worked up for gentle hands and he wants something harder. He nods, eyes slipping closed, cock pulsing, spilling precome over Roy’s fingers. 

“I know.” Roy says, a half laugh, a half kiss, fucking into Dick’s mouth more than he’s closing his lips over him. “You’re not as quiet as you think, bossman. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” 

Dick pushes Roy back down against the couch, pulling open his pants with a probably unnecessary amount of force. Roy watches him like he’s something worthwhile to see, cheeks bleeding as red as his damn uniform. Dick slips two fingers into his mouth, using his thumb to pet at Roy’s jaw as he sucks. He touches himself with the fingers still wet from Roy’s mouth, dragging a hand down his chest and pulling at his nipple the way he does when he’s alone, the way Kory does when she senses something crawling hot underneath his skin. Roy groans, rocking up against empty air, pants around his thighs. 

“Come on, baby.” Roy pants. “Honey, baby, sweetheart-- play fair.” 

Dick grins, sweet and sharp. “Who’s playing?” 

He doesn’t pull Roy’s shirt up to full on rut against his stomach but it’s a near thing, the space between his hips and his thigh too hot for Dick to ignore, the way his shirt is bunching up there, a sliver of skin. Dick spits into his hand, slipping it around both of their cocks and fucking against Roy. There’s something dirty in it-- the couch, the tv still playing, Wally in another room-- that makes Dick shudder, that makes Roy bite his lip and groan, tossing his head back. 

“Fuck yeah,” Roy grunts, maneuvering his hands half inside Dick’s boxers, squeezing around handfuls of his ass. Dick twists against Roy hard, wanting more, more, more than he can ask for, more than he can take when he’s so close. All it takes is the tease of Roy’s dry index finger against his hole for Dick to lose it, to shudder half-thrust, gasping as he comes over both of their cocks and his hand. 

“Jesus H.” Roy says, fucking against Dick through his orgasm, directing the speed of his thrusts by the hands on his ass. He comes around a silent shout, face red, freckles disappearing to the blush. Dick thinks in this moment that he’s beautiful, something quiet and aching that he keeps inside himself even as it threatens to burst. 

After, it’s as ungraceful as it always is post-orgasm. Dick settles against Roy’s chest, sticky and loose-limbed and overstimulated. Roy reaches for the Svedka where it’s half poured across the tiling of the floor next to the couch, swigging down the last of it with a pained expression. 

He yawns, and scratches at the space on his jaw where Dick knows he’s had to start shaving. “Could go for a burger.” He says, offhandedly. “You hungry?” 

Dick snorts. 


End file.
